Fox Kin
by pekhet
Summary: AU, preHBP. Voldemort's demon summoning goes wrong... Harry meets a very old, very distant relative who takes an interest in his newfound kin. No pairings other than cannon yet.
1. Prologue

**Summary: **AU, preHBP. Voldemort's demon summoning goes wrong... Harry meets a very old, very distant relative who takes an interest in his newfound kin. No pairings other than cannon yet.

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**Prologue. Wherein we meet a human-sized snack.**

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Disclaimer: Anything you recognize? Not mine ...huddles in a corner and weeps...

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They say that just before you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes. He thought he might have enjoyed that, at least it would put off the issue for a while. Because being pinned by the gaze of a building-sized demon fox made him feel like lunch. Unfortunately, that did not seem to be an unrealistic expectation.

"Demon, you served my great ancestor well. I give you these creatures as an initial offering in what will be a marvelous alliance! Join me and you will be able to feast on the bones of millions!"

He seemed to be on the menu. Damn.


	2. Chapter 1: The Summer Starts

**Chapter 1. The summer starts.**

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Disclaimer: Anything you recognize? Not mine ...huddles in a corner and weeps...

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**Two weeks before...**

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"Harry, make sure to write regularly, okay?" Hermione sniffled, then rushed to give him a hug.

"Mate, we'll see you for your birthday at the latest -- we'll get Dumbledore to let you out sooner if possible," Ron refrained from sniffling, if only to show that he wasn't a pansy, and gave him a 'manly' hug.

"Hermione, I'll try. And Ron, Dumbledore has not been that eager to set me free of that hellhole in the past, so don't count on it." Was he bitter? Neah! Oh, well, hmm, maybe... oh who was he kidding... make that a lot bitter. After all, his godfather had just died, the fate of the world had been dumped onto his malnourished back, and he was being sent back to his loving relatives, the Dursleys. Did he mention the fate of the world? "Anyway, I have to go. Don't want the Dursleys to leave because they couldn't 'find' me. Have a good summer, Hermione, Ron." With that, one Harry Potter was off, ready to brave yet another summer in the incredibly wholesome environment of Privet Drive.

Passing through the wall that separated the wizarding platform from the Muggle side of King's Cross, he wondered, yet again, if he was about to run into some unsuspecting person as he exited the wall. He hoped the Ministry had a Notice-Me-Not charm on the wall to prevent that. Then again, it was the Ministry, so he should be ready for a head-on collision instead.

"Mommy, mommy!" A child tugged on her mother's arm. "Mommy, look, that boy just came out of the wall!" Harry shuffled away as inconspicuously as possible from the pointing girl and her mother. Although how inconspicuous one can be when dragging a trunk and an owl cage, complete with snowy owl... Luckily, the girl's mother was distracted by a departure announcement, and rushed herself and the child off towards her platform. Letting out a sigh of relief, Harry started looking around for the Dursleys, and noticed them almost immediately. Having been close enough to hear the girl's comments, Vernon's purple face was proof of his displeasure. Petunia looked to have swallowed a lemon, and Dudley was leering in an extremely unpleasant way.

"Let's go, you freak," Vernon hissed, sweeping the family away and to their waiting car.

He had been right. Yet another miserable summer was well on its way.

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**One week before...**

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Dumbledore's idiocy knew no bounds. That old man's brain had obviously decayed with age. What kind of moron would tell the Dursleys that Harry's godfather was dead? Supposedly so that family would "help get Harry through this difficult time..." Harry's best weapon against his family's casual cruelty was gone. However, the threat of calling Social Services prevented his relocation to the cupboard, and he was kept locked up in his bedroom instead. They did at least allow a 10-minute bathroom break per day... at least given his nutrition, or lack thereof, that matter was not so pressing after all. A couple of slices of stale bread in the evening and water from the bathroom tap had to suffice. Needless to say, he did not have the energy to do more than lie on his cot and stare at cracks in the plaster. A pounding on his locked door startled him from his hungry daze. The locks were snapped open and Vernon pushed through, glaring at him.

"Get up, boy. We're going out and you are not staying here. Be downstairs in two minutes!" Vernon's face had maintained its purple aspect since King's Cross, and did not look to change any time soon.

He got up, gingerly, and grabbed his wand, sticking it in his back pocket, dragging the large shirt over it. Better to take the chance of blowing his buttocks off than not have his wand with him. He felt a bit dizzy, and had to grab at the wall as he left the room and made his way down the stairs. Loud thumping sounds coming down behind him warned him of Dudley's arrival in time to squeeze himself flat against the wall, although this did not stop his cousin from elbowing him roughly in the stomach.

"Why is the freak coming, dad?" Dudley's whining pushed nails through Harry's brain. "I don't want him to come with us! Can't we leave him, mom?"

"Now, Duddykins, the freak will destroy the house if we leave him by himself, and Mrs. Figg is sick, she can't take him. He has to come with us, but don't worry, he'll stay in the car." Petunia was no happier than her husband or son, it seemed. "Get into the car, boy," she snapped at Harry, "don't keep us waiting. Now, Dudley, mommy will buy you those new CDs you wanted to make up for this, alright?"

"But mommmm..."

"Now, Duds, didn't you want a new CD player as well? Don't worry son, your mother and I will make sure the freak doesn't bother you anymore." Vernon having had the last word, the family left the house and squeezed into the car. Harry felt like a sardine, a nauseated sardine, as they took off. It was only the utter emptiness of his stomach that kept him from spewing its contents over Dudley.

After an initial stop at a McDonald's to get Dudley a family-sized meal, they made their way to the Little Whinging shopping center. Vernon parked some distance away from the entrance, causing more whining on the part of Dudley, dealt with by offering more bribes.

"Now, boy, you are to stay here. You are not to leave the car at all. And if anything happens to our car, I will take it out of your hide, freak!" With a last scowl, Vernon swept his family away, leaving the Dursleys' bane on his own.

Twenty minutes later, Harry felt like he was trapped in an oven, and took the risk of rolling open his window. Although there was no breeze, even that little bit of air helped in the hot weather. He would have to look out for the Dursleys coming back, but at their speed, he would probably have enough time to roll it back up before they got to the car. Harry's thoughts turned to Hogwarts and he dozed off imagining he was lying down by the lake, the Giant Squid's tentacles waving about gently on top of the water. Ah, water... Though he was not so happy to have Bellatrix Lestrange invade his dreams.

"Awww, is ickle Potty napping? Let me help. Stupefy!"


	3. Chapter 2: Captured

**Chapter 2. Captured.****  
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Disclaimer: Anything you recognize? Not mine ...huddles in a corner and weeps...**  
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**The day before...****  
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"My Lord, I have brought the potions you requested, and their antidotes."

"Excellent. I have a treat for you, my Potions Master. You will get to test these on a most fitting subject, one who has been a perpetual annoyance to me. Be creative, but he must be alive for tomorrow's activities. Administer the antidotes as needed to make things more interesting."

"My Lord, thank you. My Lord, does he need to be healthy tomorrow?"

A hissing laugh answered him. "Ah, Severus, this is why I enjoy your service so. I wish more of my servants had your enthusiasm and ability. And in answer to your question, no. Nor is it necessary for him to live to the day after. Now, for our audience, give me your arm."

One press of a pale wand later, an answering set of pops satisfied the snakish Dark Lord. The new arrivals bowed deeply and kneeled at his feet, with a murmured "My Lord" from each.

"Bellatrix, bring our special guest from his cell and do not play with him on this trip. Dear Severus needs a test animal for his new potions, and it promises to be an exciting show for us all. Peter, tell me, how fares our most excellent Ministry..."

The reports continued, covering the efforts of the Death Eaters throughout England and Europe. Satisfactory results meant that Lord Voldemort's servants were spared his Crucios, at least for the moment. As the last finished up, Bellatrix strode back into the hall, a body floating behind her.

"Leave him in the center, Bella. Severus, show us your skills."

"My Lord." Severus Snape bowed then made his way to the body now lying encircled by Death Eaters and their Lord, as Bellatrix Lestrange went to the side. Who was this who had earned such pain? For it was obvious that this man had already been tortured, as he currently looked to be little more than a limp, bloody rag. As he reached the body, the Potions Master kneeled down and started setting out his potions, glass tinkling as bottle after bottle was retrieved and unshrunk.

"Immobulus! Ennervate!" The spells hit the body in rapid succession. Another spell later, the man was flipped over onto his back, and a potion poured into his mouth which he swallowed involuntarily. Green eyes clouded over by pain stared up at Severus. "Potter!" The name was hissed out. The one being tortured was now identified, a boy, not a man, Harry Potter.

"Severus, do you not enjoy my present to you? Tell us what you are using on him." The hissed words warned against disobeying.

"My Lord, thank you for this opportunity. This first potion slowly burns up the bones from the inside out, without damaging the rest of the body. It is perhaps comparable to having your bones continuously broken, and it becomes more painful the longer you allow it to act." The voice was steady, the gaze unflinching.

The Dark Lord nodded at this answer, apparently pleased, and impressed murmurs rose from the surrounding Death Eaters.

"Ahhh!" The first scream escaped and was followed by others, each louder and more heart-wrenching than the previous. In his pain, the boy struggled against the immobilizing spell, with some success, his body writhing under the avid eyes of the watchers and the clinical ones of his torturer.

A second potion was forced into the boy. "This antidote," the Potions Master explained to his audience, "only stops the bone-burning from continuing, but does not heal the damage already done. There is another antidote for that, but there is no point in using it on him at this point. His bones are now brittle enough that I can do this." And picking up Potter's left hand, he proceeded to snap the fingers one by one, as though breaking dry twigs, to the accompaniment of the boy's renewed screams, only interrupted by a descent into unconsciousness.

"We can't have that. Ennervate!" A new potion was force-fed. "Now this potion has Boggart-like effects, causing the victim to experience their worst fear. It provides an inescapable nightmare until the antidote is provided. Best of all, the potion also prevents him from escaping into unconsciousness or madness."

The screams and potions continued... the Boggart potion was followed by a potion that slowly boiled away and then regenerated one's eyes, on a never-ending loop, then followed by a potion that did the same to one's skin. Forced to stay aware, the boy's cries grew hoarser and hoarser, as his throat was damaged by the continual screaming.

"Enough. Excellent, Severus. I had started to worry that you would lose your edge underneath the watch of that old fool. Bella, drag him back to his cell and return. Now, Lucius, what have you brought us?"

The reports continued late into the night, when most of the Death Eaters were sent away, to return on the morrow.**  
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**... Elsewhere ...****  
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"Albus, the Dark Lord has Potter!" 


	4. Chapter 3: Demons

**Chapter 3. Demons.**

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Disclaimer: Anything you recognize? Not mine ...huddles in a corner and weeps...

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**Some moments before...**

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Being staked out naked upon a marble altar on the cold moors of Scotland was not his idea of fun, especially not with the audience of goggling Death Eaters. Then again, the last week had been less than excellent. Indeed, having the infamous Dark Lord Voldemort drawing a giant rune circle around that same altar and using his own blood to paint various symbols upon his tortured body, all the while chanting some strange spell, was sending a very negative message. Heavy damage to his vocal chords prevented him from commenting on the singing, as well.

Voldemort moved outside the runic circle and drew in the last rune, completing the circle. His chanting gained in volume, ending with a triumphant shout and arms upraised. A heavy, one might almost say expectant, silence fell upon the group. None moved, no swishing of robes disturbed the stillness. The air seemed heavy, yet as moments passed, nothing happened.

Pettigrew broke the silence. "Master..."

Voldemort turned upon him. "Silence, you fool! Crucio!" Pettigrew's screams shattered whatever was left of the tattered silence, yet the others were frozen into obedience, their eyes unwillingly drawn to their screaming colleague.

"Who dares to wake me from my slumber?" An Inhuman Voice of Doom™ covered the screams, and all eyes snapped back to the circle and its contents, then up, and up, and up... It is hard to describe how far up, but the Inhuman Voice of Doom™ was accompanied by an Inhuman Furred Creature of Doom™, undoubtedly the tallest thing on the moors. A gigantic white fox (or perhaps some other member of the family Canidae, the Death Eaters were really not quite sure) stood displaying monolith-sized fangs and waving multiple tails. Moreover, the creature was somewhat outside the circle, which was obviously not up to the task of containing the giant.

Let no one say that Voldemort was cowardly, though startled enough to have kept Pettigrew under the Cruciatus until that point. Nevertheless, his need to answer meant that he broke off the torture of his servant. A fast spell threw Pettigrew to the fox's feet. "It was I, Lord Voldemort, the heir of your old master, Lord Slytherin. Demon Lord, I have called you here to rain death and destruction down on my enemies! And you may start with him!" Pointing towards the altar.

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**The present...**

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They say that just before you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes. He thought he might have enjoyed that, at least it would put off the issue for a while. Because being pinned by the gaze of a building-sized demon fox made him feel like lunch. Unfortunately, that did not seem to be an unrealistic expectation.

"Demon, you served my great ancestor well. I give you these creatures as an initial offering in what will be a marvelous alliance! Join me and you will be able to feast on the bones of millions!"

He seemed to be on the menu. Damn. Though perhaps he should be grateful that Wormtail, that traitor, was going down along with him.

The Inhuman Furred Creature of Doom™ turned its gaze (of Doom, of course) back upon its summoner, then swept it across the masked audience. A lazy yawn revealed teeth that would give nightmares to a shark.

"Aa, so you are of Salazar's get? His intelligence was clearly not genetic, then. I grant you one boon, mortal, for being his descendant... time to run!" One moment passed, then two, as Voldemort and the Death Eaters stared at the fox, astonished.

"How dare..." Voldemort began, furious. Yet his remaining words had to be swallowed as a veritable hell of fire was rained down upon them by the demon, crisping half of his Death Eaters... and Peter Pettigrew, who had been trying to crawl away in the confusion.

"Retreat!" Voldemort screamed, and those who were able to ran, apparating or portkeying away, as flame, now joined by lightning, continued to strike and fry the stragglers. In a moment, the area was empty and quiet, but for one demon fox and one altar-bound sacrifice, and the sound of burning.

"I suppose you are my leftover prize. What shall I do with you?" Altar and boy were swept up by one tail and then the fox was gone, boy and all.

A crack signaled the return of a lone Death Eater, slightly singed. He looked around, wand ready to hand. "Point me Harry Potter!" His wand spun round and round, and he collapsed to his knees. "Oh no..."


	5. Chapter 4: Panic

**Chapter 4. Panic. **

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Disclaimer: Anything you recognize? Not mine ...huddles in a corner and weeps...**  
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**The present...****  
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"Sir, we have looked everywhere. There are a number of bodies still to be identified, but it is probable that one of them belongs to Potter. They are just too charred to tell, at this point, without the use of potions. The failure of the 'Point me' charm and the refusal of owls to pick up letters addressed to Potter are not encouraging." Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice was evenly professional. "On the other hand, the magic released by the summoning of a high level demon may be interfering with our spells. The site has now been turned over to the Department of Mysteries for study, but whether they will find out anything else, or even tell us if they do, is another question altogether."

The umpteenth meeting of the reunited Order of the Phoenix was currently underway, enveloped in a despairing atmosphere (the Twins' DeMintor candies may have been involved ... guaranteed to "Chill your breath"). Molly Weasley had been stunned one minute into it by an exasperated Severus Snape (who had shrieked "Stop wailing, you bloody witch!" followed soon after by "Stupefy!"). He was now bound to his chair and gagged, courtesy of Alastor "Mad-eye" Moody ("My pleasure!"). The initial chaos had been halted by grace of one Minerva McGonnagal ("Be quiet, all of you! Twenty points from Gryffindor!"), who had taken the opportunity to leave Molly and Severus as they were.

Albus Dumbledore sighed. "This is discouraging, very discouraging. I should not have to reiterate how important Harry is to the fight against Voldemort. He must be found!" He sighed again, then perked up. "Are those mints? Excellent, very chilling!"

"Albus, this is not the time for candy! That poor boy is now Merlin only knows where, and we must hope that he is still alive, since obviously he was not safe with those Dursleys! I told you Albus, I knew we should not have left him there!" The Deputy Headmistress, voice rising higher and higher, was gearing up for a rant.

"Now, Minerva, this is really not the time for that discussion." Dumbledore interjected, then popped another DeMintor into his mouth with a pleased hum. "Severus, how was Harry when you saw him? What do you think of his chances of escape?"

The Potions Master's glare was strong enough to fell unsuspecting Hufflepuffs (of which, unfortunately, none were present) as he tried to mumble something through the gag. As most of the Order glanced away, whistling, a short spell from Arthur Weasley removed the obstruction (the gag, not the Potions Master...). "Albus, what do you expect me to say? He was in their hands for a week, during which he was undoubtedly treated to all of the Dark Arts curses that would not be immediately lethal, as well as physically tortured and probably raped. I then fed him a number of torture potions and the next day he was the main course in a demon summoning. Let's see, what are our options? He could have escaped, and, due to not having any sort of emergency portkey and otherwise being unable to apparate, is now dead of exposure somewhere out on the Scottish moors. Or maybe the escaping Death Eaters recaptured him, and now that he is no longer needed for the summoning, he is either dead, or wishing he was. Or he is one of those carbonated corpses... fastest way to go, if you ask me." ("Bastard! Let me at him!") "Our last option, worst and most unlikely, I believe, is that the demon has him. And what do demons do, Albus? Why, they feast on souls! In which case Potter is doomed to an eternity of pain beyond our limited human imagination! Merlin, Albus, what do you think? We are doomed!"**  
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**At the same time...****  
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"Amelia, what are we to do? We must evacuate the Ministry, we must..." One Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, was furiously pacing his office, alternately wringing his hands and pulling his hair. This was not a good day, not a good day at all. "What are we to do? What can we tell the public? They will impeach me! First You-Know-Who reappears, now this! Demons! And the Boy-Who-Lived, dead! What can we do?" An inarticulate shriek punctuated the end of his speech, as he started hyperventilating.

"Minister, we must announce a state of emergency! We must somehow locate and restrain this demon, we cannot simply let it wonder around killing people. Now, sir, perhaps you should take a Calming Draught." Amelia Bones did not necessarily have any actual ideas as to how to accomplish these goals, but perhaps... "We should call in Headmaster Dumbledore and convene the Wizengamot. And we should certainly notify the other ministries. Who knows where that creature may decide to go!"

Minister Fudge looked horrified, but at the same time, unaccountably cheered. "Excellent thought, Amelia. No need to worry everyone, I am certain that d-d-d-demon will wander away from us. However, this issue of Harry Potter... hmm... it is unfortunate that he was so headstrong as to run away from his relatives. And who is to say that he did not conjure that thing himself! Yes, that's right! Those things always turn on their summoners! And then they go away!"

"Minister, that's not what" "No, Amelia, I know best. I am the Minister, after all!" And with that, he opened the windows, breathed deep, and stretched, refreshed. Neither noticed the beetle crawling onto the windowsill, only to zoom off.**  
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**Soon after...****  
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Boy-Who-Died?

by Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent

Harry Potter, the child best known for vanquishing You-Know-Who when he was yet a babe, apparently met his match when he was destroyed by his summoned demon. While his first year after rejoining the Wizarding World gave us hope, as we saw him again for the first time since 1981, his subsequent years at Hogwarts revealed to us a boy who was sinking deeper and deeper into madness, obviously tainted by his early encounter with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. In his second year, the Parselmouth set a snake upon his classmate, and rumors still abound about the creature that petrified several students that year. In his third year, the murderer Sirius Black escaped to join his master (we refer our readers to Harry Potter's interview with the Quibbler, arguing for Sirius Black's 'innocence'), attacking young Ron Weasley -- was this an early sign of Harry Potter's jealousy towards his rival for the love of Hermione Granger? In his fourth year, the Boy-Who-Lived managed to enter the famous Triwizard Championship, wherein Cedric Diggory died under mysterious circumstances, the Boy-Who-Lived being the only witness. In this last year, Harry Potter again and again showed his arrogance and his disdain for the law by repeatedly defying the edicts of the Ministry, and furthermore breaking into the Ministry itself at the end of the year. One may wonder, dear readers, whether Harry Potter obtained his directions for summoning the demon (heavily restricted material) from that very adventure?**  
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**Soon after...****  
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"This is a disaster!" Minister Fudge whimpered.

"This is a disaster!" Albus Dumbledore collapsed into his chair, dismayed.


	6. Chapter 5: In Which We Learn That

**Chapter 5. In which we learn that not all foxes are created equal.**

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Disclaimer: Anything you recognize? Not mine ...huddles in a corner and weeps...

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**The present...**

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Even giant magical demon foxes need to groom their fur, especially if they want to keep it shiny white. A last nip and a lick took care of the ninth tail, and a smooth stretch and shake fluffed all remaining bits into place. A leisurely yawn exposed shiny white fangs (complementing the shiny white fur) with red accents. Another yawn and stretch and then all the tails were tucked securely around its paws. Gleaming red eyes were turned to matters of secondary concern, namely, one naked, unconscious body lying on damp grass.

"What shall I do with you? You smell like trouble, kitling. You smell like kitling, in fact. Now, why is that? Hmm?" Flared nostrils and gaping mouth took in the scent. With a huff, then a sneeze, "Yes, you are trouble, pure trouble." Power gathered, coiling tightly around the giant, tighter and tighter, as a heavy, oppressive feeling built up in the air. Then with a thrumming spark, the power collapsed inwards and the fox disappeared. "Always liked trouble." No longer the Inhuman Voice of Doom™, but a more human-sized Voice of Doom™ purred out these words.

Where the Inhuman Furred Creature of Doom™ had once been, a man now stood, complete with gleaming red eyes, fangs, sharp claws, and a nonet of fluffy tails tangled together with a long silver mane. A black kimono wrapped around his torso, secured with a white obi, and tabi-socked, getaed feet were visible beneath the divided dove-gray hakama. A crimson haori completed the ensemble. A costume belonging to an earlier age, covering a being that belonged in myth and nightmares. A man comfortable with his state-of-being, confident in his dominion over all around him regardless of his current size and appearance. He strode swiftly towards his current preoccupation and kneeled by his side. "Yes, my little trouble, you need to wake up and smell the dawn." He brushed his claws slowly through the boy's dark fur. "Aa, after I made the effort of healing all your hurts..." He closed his eyes and gave a soft purr-sigh. A moment later his eyes snapped open and focused on the boy again.

A soft moan broke through and green eyes fluttered open, disoriented. Then they snapped open and the body went rigid as memory returned, heart racing in response to the expectation of imminent pain. Then green eyes met gleaming red and a scream burst out as the boy scrabbled away.

"Now, now, there is no need for that, kitling." The demon moved quickly to cut off the boy's escape. "What are you called, kitling? Trouble, by any chance?" Clawed hands grabbed bare shoulders to prevent further attempts.

The boy desperately struggled to get away. "Oh, hell no. Let me go, pervert!" A choking sound seemed to be all the answer that would meet this demand, for he was still securely gripped. Yet that changed in a moment, when the grip shifted to grab him by the nape, and he was shaken into submission.

A threatening growl accompanied by the flash of fangs killed the last of his frantic movements. Glaring red eyes stared into green, deeply displeased by the implications. "You will sit down. You will sit still. You will listen when I speak, and you will answer the questions I ask you. Are we clear on this, kitling?"

"Yes." He was released, falling on his ass, then the demon's haori suddenly smacked him in the face. "Eh, is this for me?"

"Was that Slytherin's brain damage somehow contagious? Yes, put it on. Now, what is your name, kitling?" The patience of an immortal predator did not translate into patience for fools. The boy was hastily swallowed up in his haori, but appeared more comfortable once covered.

"I'm Harry, Harry Potter. Who are you?"

The demon was silent for a long moment, an indefinable emotion behind his crimson eyes. "A boring human name, unsuited for any kin of mine, little Trouble-kun."

"Huh?"

"Which of my kin does your line come from, hmm? You are midnight-furred, so perhaps my cousin Yue?"

"Huh?"

"Not very bright, are you? Tell me, little Trouble-kun, which of the kitsune lines bore you? You bear the scent of kin."

"Huh? What the hell are you talking about? I am not a fox in any way, shape, or form! I'm human, human! Not that I ever really wanted to be related to those fat pigs, but unfortunately, mother's sacrifice and all that."

"Green-eyed, perhaps my sister's? Hmm. No, kitling, the kitsune blood always dominates. You are not really human -- why would you want to be prey? What have they done to you to make you want that?" The last was said with a thoughtful growl and twitching tails. The demon's thoughts turned inwards, reviewing his memories of the kit's now healed injuries, a vicious, deadly sound starting to rumble in his chest as previously ignored details came to the fore, the patterns of the healing telling him exactly what had happened to the kitling during his short life, culminating with the major traumas suffered in the recent days. "Who hurt you, kitling? I will bring you their hearts!"

"Umm, huh?" Nevertheless, Harry's chest tightened with panic. "Nothing, nobody! I just want to go home!" Nothing had happened, nothing! He would go home, take a potion, everything would be alright!

"You are home. You are staying. It matters not whose line you are from, you are kin regardless of such details. You belong here and I," with a rumbling threatening purr, "will make sure that those who have offered you dishonor pay for their actions. I am called Yuki. We will call you Takeshi, kitling. 'Fierce', a fitting name for my kit. You _will_ tell me, Takeshi-kun, everything that has happened to you." Rage filled his words, rage and echoes of a strong protective instinct.

Harry stared at him, stunned. "Did you just adopt me?"


	7. Chapter 6: Yes, Harry, There Is a Santa

**Chapter 6. Yes, Harry, there is a Santa Claus.**

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Disclaimer: Anything you recognize? Not mine ...huddles in a corner and weeps...

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**The present...**

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Harry stared at him, stunned. "Did you just adopt me?"

"Yes, Takeshi-kun." The words were almost cooed.

"You can't do that! And my name is Harry, not, not this Takemoto!"

The answer was a raised eyebrow and a warning rumble. "As I said, we will call you Takeshi."

"I want to go home!" Continued intransigence was apparently not the way to go -- Harry was once again grabbed by the nape and brought face-to-face with his captor/wannabe-parent and roared at (magically, no spittle was thrown).

"Home? Home, you say? Would this be the place I rescued you from, where you were being served up on a platter to appease me? Or would this be the place you collected your older scars? Tell me, were you that accident-prone as you were growing up and was your family so poor that they were unable to feed you, resulting in your stunted growth? I will not send a kit back to be abused as you have so clearly been!" That last came in a soft tone, as his tails waved agitatedly.

"I, uh, how? How? How did you?" Incoherence was the order of the day. "Did you read my mind? No, never mind. I need to go home. They need me there. Please, just let me go."

"Aa. No." The demon had still not released his hold on Harry. "Little one, no youngling should be left in such hurtful circumstances. You will stay with me -- I will take care of you and teach you all you need to know about your heritage. There is no need for you to go back -- why should there be for one as young as you? If their success or survival depends on a kit, they do not deserve either, whoever they may be."

Harry shook his head. "No, you don't understand. They need me!"

"Takeshi-kun, enough. You have given no good argument as to why you need to return, and until such time as you manage to convince me of it, you shall be staying with me. You are safe here, kitling. Come." Well, that last command involved less voluntary motion than implied, as Yuki simply picked up the newly-named Takeshi -- shivering and struggling as he may have been -- and strode off towards the large shinden-zukuri structure (that was conveniently ignored until this point).

The elegant estate was far removed from Privet Drive both in character and dimension. It appeared to cover several acres, with a pair of long, enclosed corridors flanking a large courtyard and gardens, linking a set of pavilions to a central building. Several bridges spanned a meandering stream that flowed into a small lake, with other bridges connecting a number of small islands to the shore. Gracefully curving wooden-shingled roofs covered the structure. No sound beyond the soft sussuration of the flowing water and sleepy chirping of crickets disturbed the tranquil scene.

The kitsune easily bore his trembling burden, a few of his white tails wrapped softly and securely around, as they made their way through the main courtyard and up the entrance staircase of the central building. "Kon kon!" A bark shattered the serenity of the landscape. "Kon kon! Kon kon!" As three grey foxes came racing out through the supporting stilts of one of the pavilions, Harry went still, reminded of Ripper, Aunt Marge's unholy terror of a dog. "Kon kon?" This last bark was soft, almost inquisitive, and Harry could not help but yelp as a cold, wet nose buried itself in the back of his knee. "Enough, let him be." Yuki's voice was commanding and the foxes backed off, panting. "This is Takeshi-kun, my new kit. You are to leave him alone unless he asks for company, do you understand? He has been grievously hurt and needs time and space to heal. Kitling, these ladies are Amaya-san, Kaminari-san, and Mai-san." Each of the foxes yipped as her name was called.

Yuki peered closely at the silent boy. "Takeshi-kun? On my honor, no harm will come to you in this house -- my home is yours, kitling."

"My name's Harry, just Harry. Please, won't you let me go home?" He felt numb by this point. Surely he had good reasons to slip into shock?

"Oh, child..." The words were soft -- was that regret? "Harry, if that is what you wish to be called. Please rest here, recover from your trials. There are issues we need to discuss before you run back into the arms of those who have dealt you such anguish. Here you are amongst family: none of us would harm a kit, and all wish to know you better." "Kon kon! Kon kon!" Agreeing barks accompanied this statement. "Please stay?"

Never let it be said that he didn't get into strange situations. On one hand, they had not hurt him (yet), the yelling had been minimal, and were (supposedly) family. On the other hand, red eyes, sharp teeth, Voice of Doom™. And can you say furry?!? But... family. Family who wanted him? At least until they realized that he wasn't, really. He closed his eyes and settled a bit deeper in Yuki's arms. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to be selfish for once? Hmm, this was comfortable and warm.


	8. Chapter 7: A Meal

**Chapter 7. A meal.**

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Disclaimer: Anything you recognize? Not mine ...huddles in a corner and weeps...

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Harry awoke to a soft susurrus of voices and a hand carding through his hair. Long-buried memories of a red-haired woman doing the same shook him to full wakefulness and he opened his eyes, recent events crashing in on his consciousness. The one who held him -- and he was still so warm, so warm -- was Yuki, he remembered. He was speaking with an unfamiliar woman, in an unknown language -- Chinese, Japanese, maybe? He shifted, and both looked at him. Yuki smiled at him, his look soft and kind. The woman, too, had warm, approving eyes.

"Awake, kitling? I have much to tell you, but first, are you hungry? Aa, this is Kaminari-san, whom you met when we came here."

The woman, who appeared to have nothing in common with the grey fox of before, bowed. "Hello, Harry-san."

"Hello, ma'am. Umm, I don't mean to be a bother. I will not be here long." He did not quite know what to say to her, to them, and why did it hurt so to know he would be leaving soon? Just then, his stomach chose to growl, and he blushed, embarrassed.

"Kaminari-san, would you please arrange us a meal? Come, Harry-kun, let us wash up." Without waiting for a response, Yuki sat up, bringing Harry with him.

...

He felt so much better, clean now and in a complete set of clothing, unfamiliar as it was. Some further embarrassment had been incurred when he had to ask Yuki for help with the confusing getup, though the man had not seemed to mind. A wonder in and of itself, somehow Yuki's presence had not triggered memories of his recent vulnerability at the hands of the Death Eaters. And now a range of enticing, but foreign, smells wafted up to him from the dishes spread out on the low table, though Kaminari-san was nowhere in evidence. Two place settings were arranged side by side, one with a set of familiar eating utensils -- fork and spoon and knife -- prompting him as to where to sit down, though he did not approach the table right away.

"Let us eat and then we will speak -- come sit down." Yuki arranged himself in a rather uncomfortable-looking kneeling position on one of the thin cushions taking the place of chairs. "No need to sit in seiza, child. I know quite well how uncomfortable it is for those trying it for the first time -- or even for the first few times."

Harry arranged himself into a semi-comfortable position on his cushion, looking curiously from the table to his dining companion. The food was presented very differently from what he was used to, although he could recognize rice and fish and some sort of soup. It smelled good, and his stomach grumbled again.

"Allow me to serve you, Harry-kun. This meal must be rather strange for you, hmm?" Harry nodded in response. "Alright. This is a miso soup," he said, serving some into a small bowl, which he placed in front of Harry, "which is based on fermented soy paste and shiitake mushrooms and includes tofu and shrimp. This is brown rice and here are some karaage -- chicken, in this case. And here, have some tempura -- these are vegetables and shrimp -- and this is some sauce for dipping the tempura." He delicately picked up pieces of food from the serving dishes and moved them to Harry's plate. "These are gyoza -- pork and vegetable dumplings -- these are yakitori -- chicken -- and this is yakizakana -- I am not certain what type of fish this is, but I am certain it is wonderful. Kaminari-san is an excellent cook. This is tataki sashimi -- tuna, in this case -- some tsukemono -- pickled vegetables -- and some sunomono -- cucumber in rice vinegar." He served himself as well. "Please eat, Harry-kun. Itadakimasu," he joined his hands together, with a small bow.

"Itadakimasu?" Harry repeated, uncertainly. Seeing Yuki direct a small smile at him, he ducked his head. Then, picking up his spoon, he started in on the soup, while sneaking glances at his host.

"Some tea?" Holding up an iron teapot, Yuki waited until Harry's acknowledgement, then poured into a small cup before setting the pot back onto its holder. "Would you like me to show you how to use chopsticks, Harry-kun? You seem curious."

"I don't want to trouble you, sir." Harry was enjoying the food, although he felt a bit odd, using the fork while Yuki somehow managed to maneuver everything he wanted using two thin pieces of wood.

"Not at all, it would be my pleasure." Yuki said, standing up and reseating himself behind Harry. "Allow me," he said, picking up Harry's hand in his own. "You want to hold your fingers like this," moving Harry's fingers into the correct position, "and the chopsticks rest like this. They should be comfortable in your hand," he finished arranging the chopsticks, still holding Harry's hand. "Never use your chopsticks to spear items, it is impolite, or to serve from the serving dishes -- that is what the extra chopsticks are for, serving. See, you can pick up food, like so. Even rice." He demonstrated, using Harry's hand. He stilled. "Harry-kun? Is something wrong?"

Harry was frozen. He tried to speak, but something was blocking his throat. He opened his mouth and closed it again, no sound coming out. "Harry-kun?" He heard, as if from far away. He raised his empty hand to his face, were those tears? And now he was shivering, no, shaking. He felt like he could not draw another breath. "Harry-kun?" And then the chopsticks were gently withdrawn from his hand, and he was pulled into Yuki's lap, and his hands curled up around the crimson cloth of Yuki's haori, and he was crying silently, and he could not stop his tears. He trembled as he hid his face in Yuki's chest, enough to put a leaf to shame. For once, he was being held and not pushed away -- instead, Yuki held him closer, rubbing his back to try to soothe his distress.

He did not know how long he was held, though at some point his tears dried up and the shaking stopped. He hiccuped a few times, yet even the hiccups went away after awhile, and he just rested there. "I'm sorry," he eventually said.

"Child, you have nothing to apologize for. It is entirely understandable, and indeed, I am glad that you felt comfortable enough here to allow yourself to let go." Yuki said softly, tightening his arms around him. "Know that you are safe here -- and you may tell me your woes -- I shall not judge you. I know that you are still uncertain of your place here, that you doubt my words, but let me assure you, child, that you have found a home here, that we will be your family regardless of what our actual blood relation may be -- even if none at all."

"I..." and Harry had to swallow, and start again. "I remember, when I was little, how Aunt Petunia taught Dudley to use a spoon." He laughed, harshly. "She never did that for me. They would just hit me if I did it wrong. That's when they bothered to feed me, of course." The chest beneath him rumbled, and he stopped, startled. The arms around him had tightened even more, almost painfully, but then loosened, and one of them came up to card through his hair. "No one else ever bothered, either. Whenever I tried to tell someone, they always thought I was exaggerating -- somehow, even after being rescued from a barren rock in the middle of the sea when I turned eleven, or being rescued from a locked and barred room when I was twelve. Somehow, even though I always came to school starved, in ragged too-large clothes, I was always the lying, attention-seeking brat." A wet, rough breath, and he continued. "I don't even know if the Headmaster had to magic away any complaints about my well-being, or lack thereof. Everyone was certainly willing to turn a blind eye. After all, they were my blood-kin, and the Dursleys were such fine, upstanding citizens!" The last came out almost hysterically. "Why the hell do you believe me when no one ever did before?"

"Harry-kun, I have never overlooked the mistreatment of children -- kitsune or not -- and have always acted to protect them -- sometimes in hidden ways. In my many years, I have seen that people -- humans especially, though other races are not immune from making the same mistake -- try to ignore unpleasantness if it does not impact them directly. People are sheep, looking to those few who are willing and able to make the decisions for the group -- and few are those who are willing to make a stand for the betterment of others. Yet I have never let others make my decisions for me, not since I was a kit in the care of my dam. Though there might be much horror in the world, I prefer to accept the truth of things and try to make improvements rather than sticking fingers in my ears and whistling in the wind, hoping for some _deus ex machina_ to enact a miraculous change for the better." He fell silent for a moment, looking at a stricken Harry. "I consider the ones who ignored your hurts and pains to be just as guilty as the ones who inflicted them. There is no excuse for adults not doing everything which is within their power to help a child."

Harry said nothing more, though his arms gathered around Yuki, holding tightly on to the kitsune who was still gently carding through his hair, and they stayed so for a long while.


	9. Chapter 8: Background 101

**Chapter 8. Background 101.**

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Disclaimer: Anything you recognize? Not mine ...huddles in a corner and weeps...

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Later they sat, drinking tea and looking over the gardens and lake. Yuki slowly sipped some of his green tea and then began to speak.

"The kitsune species has its own home dimension, which we are currently in, although many of us live peacefully in Japan and surrounding regions, where traditional culture melds magical and non-magical. Some kitsune really love technology, including Amaya, Kaminari, and Mai, my paid retainers. They take care of this manor and fulfill other tasks as needed -- the pay they receive is putting them through college -- they intend to stay in Japan once their degrees are completed. I am personally more traditional -- I believe I have a more balanced view of the world -- which is not to say that I am unable or unwilling to use magical or non-magical technology. However, my current occupation is as a high-level children's healer within the magical society of Japan. I am also one of the oldest kitsune -- the oldest, in fact -- at 1503 years old. Magically, kitsune gain elemental powers after their first century, but are instinctual illusionists and shapeshifters even as kits. We are resistant to directly-applied external magic from birth. Our magical powers expand with age with no apparent limit, thus, although I am a generally peaceful, retiring kitsune, I am the acknowledged leader of the species -- the next oldest kitsune have not passed the thousand-year mark. Kitsune easily pass for human -- my distinctive fox-traits are a personal affectation, not a necessity -- although a human-shifted kitsune retains one distinctive feature that reveals their origin, something different for each individual but that may be hidden by other means. Much like humans, we are a neutral-alignment species, but our tight links to kith and kin as well as nature mean that we are less likely to fall into the extreme good or evil categories. However, we can become extremely aggressive in our defense of kits, and have a 'the only good enemy is a dead enemy' policy, practically a species imperative, when harm to family is involved. Inter-species treaties uphold kitsune sovereignty in settling such matters. Harry-kun, the harm done to you is definitely not something I will forgive or forget."

Harry made as if to speak, but Yuki continued. "As a healer of children, I have seen many examples of abuse -- physical and emotional -- by family and strangers, by adults and other children. When it is an isolated event, the child usually recognizes that there was no fault on their part that led to the abuse. However, Harry-kun, when the abuse is long-term, when rather than an isolated situation there are multiple events, or worst, when the abuse is continuously applied, the child often comes to believe that he or she deserves the abuse. They will often defend their abusers or deny the abuse, having little to no faith in the ability or willingness of others to rescue them from their situation. A survival mechanism, perhaps, allowing the children to somehow survive an untenable position, allowing them some sense of control over their lives. The damage to these children -- if they survive the abuse -- lasts long after the actual abuse ends." Yuki sighed deeply, and took another sip of tea, while Harry stood frozen.

Yuki glanced over, then pulled him closer, allowing Harry to lean on him. "Harry-kun, child, what I may choose to do is in no way your fault. The moment I understood what had happened to you -- both recently and throughout your life -- I was bound to a course of action that would involve healing you and making certain that those who had hurt you or contributed to that hurt would pay for it in appropriate ways ... and consequently that they would either no longer have the willingness or be in a position to hurt another child ever again." Harry made a soft sound of dissent. "No, don't protest -- I would do so for any child." Yuki briefly cupped Harry's cheek. "Harry-kun, what I wish is for you is to stay here or in Japan. Yet know that regardless -- even if you choose to return to England -- I will go with you as your guardian."

Silence reigned for some time as they gazed over the gardens, Harry still leaning against Yuki. After awhile, Harry stirred. "Tell me about Japan?"

"Japanese magical society, which is the culture many kitsune are immersed in, schools its children alongside the non-magical population -- certain schools have additional classes covering magical subjects -- and children are expected to start specializing in their mid-teens, with individualized tutoring occurring during school breaks. There are advanced magical classes offered at the university level, as well as the standalone Magical University of Tokyo. Some choose to take apprenticeships instead of or in addition to university study. Older teenagers are required to act as tutors for children with little or no previous magical family background. Underage children are allowed to perform magic outside of school and during school breaks, with various fines and penalties imposed for the use of harmful or property-damaging spells and egregious acts against others. Overall, the human and nonhuman magical populations of Japan live harmoniously with each other and the non-magical world." He hummed thoughtfully. "It is not perfect, of course. Yet the different people are united by common beliefs -- in honor, in harmony -- and the inter-species treaties ensure that there is a balance of power between the different groups. The culture is very different from what you are used to, having grown up in England -- but good will and politeness will help smooth over most cultural gaffes."

Harry took a deep breath. "I still don't understand," he huffed, "I don't understand why you would care enough to take me on. I don't see what you get out of it, but what I do know is that Voldie ran away from you and you torched quite a few of the Death Munchers. You healed and fed me -- which is better treatment than I have received from the Dursleys -- and you are giving me a choice -- more than I have been given by Dumbledore and his crowd. I... but..." he huffed, angrily, "there's a prophecy." He closed his eyes and turned his face away, not wanting to see Yuki's expression. He huffed, again.

"Kit, look at me." A gentle hand gripped his chin and slowly turned his head around, then tipped it up. "Open your eyes." Harry now stared straight at Yuki, who smiled at him, a smile which reached the eyes. "It is fine. Do you think I have spent my many years without running across a prophecy or two? Or more? I can even guess what it says -- the Chosen One will have to kill the Dark One, or vice versa -- don't they all? And you are the Chosen One, or so those idiots in Britain would have you believe. Because, of course, all good stories involve the poor orphan triumphing over the odds, defeating the evil wizard or witch or dragon, with limited magical help from some old wizard... or fairy godmother." Harry just blinked at him. "Che."

The kitsune laughed, pressing Harry closer to him. "Prophecies, chibi, prophecies are for prey. For sheep. Are you a sheep, Harry-kun?" Harry glared at the outrageous comment. "I thought not. So, what do you think?"

"Voldemort killed my parents. He's tried to kill me again and again. Dumbledore told me that I am the only one that can kill him -- according to the prophecy -- but has not given me a shred of training. My yearly near-death experiences can be laid as much at the Headmaster's feet as at Voldie's. My horrible childhood -- at Dumbledore's and the Dursleys'. I don't care what Dumbledore thinks -- I want them all out of my life."

"Then stay. As I said -- those people -- I will treat them appropriately." The ensuing smile was truly toothsome. "My kit."

"Yes."

Half the world away, the shredded Privet Drive wards gave out completely, and the explosion of some remnant shiny knickknacks singed a resting phoenix.


End file.
